Yours To Hold
by misaoshiru
Summary: It's a quiet winter day in Tokyo, and the dojo feels tangibly empty... [Oneshot. KxK]


Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. It is property of Nobuhiro Watsuki-sensei. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while. Without permission, admittedly. I'm not making any money off of this...

**Yours to Hold**  
_by misaoshiru _

There are days when I really don't feel like myself, and I can never really put a finger on why. Or maybe I feel more like myself than usual. With how much things have changed, it's hard for me to tell what's normal and what isn't anymore.

I wake up on those strange days the same as on any normal morning, but I tend to notice more the near-emptiness of the dojo. I'm loath to admit it, but on these days especially, I find the absence of the others unsettling – even Sanosuke, with his addictions to gambling and freeloading, and Megumi, despite her teasing and sometimes harsh, though rarely undeserved, words. Then there's Yahiko, who's growing up so fast it's almost hard to believe that he's the same young boy Kenshin saved from those yakuza punks who were making them do their dirty work to pay a debt he didn't owe. He still visits most days for practice, but I'm running out of things I could teach him.

Although my parents educated me to the best of their abilities, I am hardly the most book smart woman in Japan. That is more Megumi's line of expertise, and I can't even hope to compete with Tomoe-san… More often than I would like, I find myself at a loss for words. On those strange days, I guess the word for how I feel is pensive. I look at Kenshin, the only other remaining resident here. He has often said he should find a new place to stay in order to "protect my honor." He knows the townspeople talk of "that Kamiya girl" and how she lives alone with a man outside wedlock, and it bothers him. Not for his own reputation's sake but for mine. I wish I could convince him once and for all that I don't care either, that all I want is for him to stay. Forever. Home.

I couldn't really say what it is that keeps me from telling him…the truth. What it is that I feel and what I want. It's not the fact that it's taboo for a woman to say. If that was all, I would have told him long ago and every day since. Maybe it's fear of rejection. I've never been nearly as strong as I've wanted to be; that seems to be the struggle of women, both in this country and in the rest of the world. Every day, it is my goal to became a stronger person, physically and mentally. It is slow going, and I still can't tell him those few precious words: "I love you. Stay, forever."

It's a cold day today. I awoke to find the roof of the dojo coated in a fresh blanket of snow, the first of the season. Although it bears little real difference to our lives – just the yearly cycle of the seasons – it is enough for me to wish I had a thicker hanten. The one I own now is old and worn, having served the family for many years; it was my mother's, and it was passed down to me once I was old enough to fit in it. Mother weaved it herself out of cotton, something that I could never manage.

Kenshin gives me a worried glance, and I realize that I had been staring off into space. I give him a reassuring, if weak, smile, and he seems to get the idea.

* * *

The day draws on in melancholy slowness. Like one of my grandfather's more somber paintings, in drab shades of brown and pale gray. I sit around in my room for a few hours, lost in my own thoughts. Almost by habit, I take out one of the old sewing pieces Mother worked on before her death and try to finish it, only succeeding in messing it up further than I already had. I go to the practice hall and try doing kata, but that does me no good either. Something is off today, and I can't place it. I can't seem to do anything right, and it frustrates me to no end.

I don't even realize that it's time for lunch until my stomach begins to growl. But...what's the point of even trying to cook today? As much as I hate to bother Kenshin for help...

I knock on the door to Kenshin's room. Nothing. "Hey, Kenshin," I say, trying again. "It's almost time for lunch..." Still no response. Tentatively, slowly, I slide the door open a crack and see him sitting by the window, staring out at the snow as it gently glides to the ground, and I realize something. I've been so utterly and completely selfish today. I've wondered so many things: what's wrong with me? Why am I not more like Tomoe or Megumi? Why can't I do this or that? Why does my life seem so miserable? Why am I so alone? Why...why can't I tell him? And yet...

I've known Kenshin for several months now. I've seen the pain inside him, as he's fought so many battles to protect us, as he told us stories of traumatic things that he has seen with his own eyes, as he almost fell apart, and yet he's always worn the ever-smiling rurouni mask, and I've always accepted that as the true him. But I know better, or should.

He shivers, even though the house is warm, even though he's wearing his hanten inside, and I wrap a blanket around him. He shivers still, or shudders, and I feel helpless. It is only by luck and instinct that I do manage to help. I sit down beside him, wrap my arms around him, and he is still, although he doesn't look away from the window. "When this one," he says softly, weakly, after what seems an eternity, "this _unworthy _one, looks at the snow, all that is visible is blood. Dripping from the heavens; the justice of heaven. Tenchuu... So many killed. The blood of Tomoe's fiancé, Kiyosato Akira-dono... The blood of the assassin of chains, on the night sessha met Tomoe... The blood of Tomoe..." And he cries.

They say a true man doesn't cry, but I have never seen a truer man than Himura Kenshin, and he deserves to cry. Tears for the dead, both loved ones and enemies. Tears for what could have been in a perfect world, something this world could never be. But...

"I know it's probably not a woman's place to say it..." Since when has that stopped me? "But, Kenshin, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on..."

He turns and sees me, as if noticing my presence for the first time. "This one apologizes, Kaoru-dono. Sorry to have worried you."

"Kenshin, that's the last thing I want to hear from you," I say, as strongly as I can, given the circumstances. "No 'sorry.' No apologies. No 'Kaoru-dono.'"

"But..."

"No 'buts,' either. Kenshin...if you ever need someone there for you, and if you'll let me, I'll be yours to hold. Forever."

"Forever... Thank you, Kaoru-do...Kaoru. This one thanks you," he says, sniffing as I wipe the tears away with a sleeve, "from the bottom of his heart."

* * *

**End**

* * *

Author's Notes:  
For Mi-chan and Lem. Merry Christmas.

Inspired by the Skillet song of the same name, since it's so thoroughly KxK. Worth checking out.

Posted unbeta'd, so apologies for any mistakes. Feel free to point them out in reviews...concrit is always appreciated.


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